She chuckles, waving me off. “Actually, no. I have to head out in a few minutes. But you enjoy, okay? Put the leftovers in the fridge, and then I’ll warm it up for lunch tomorrow if you want.”
“You have to eat, Mila,” I say, grabbing her wrist to pull her back as she steps away.
Her eyes gaze down to where my hand is, but I don’t remove it. Adding pressure, her arm relaxes in my grip, and I love feeling her warmth even if it’s wrong. Aside from bumping into one another at random times, I’ve done my best to physically distance myself to avoid touching her, but now that I am—even just a small part—I don’t want to let go.
She clears her throat when neither of us speaks. “I will, promise. I’ll eat when I’m out.”
At that revelation, I release her and swallow, directing my eyes back to the f
